


Minds on Fire

by Alsike



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alex doesn't deserve this, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/F, Fluffy Ending, Hellfire Club, Light BDSM, Maggie is super confused, Mentions of Sexualized Murder, Painplay, Psychological Torture, Stages of Grief as Sex Therapy, Telepathic Sex Therapy, Telepathy, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alsike/pseuds/Alsike
Summary: Alex tries to shove all her trauma into work, but when a possibly alien sex club shows up she takes the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone--figure out just how aliens are being abused and sort out her own sexual orientation. Only Telepathic Sex Therapy isn't what she expected, and facing her dark and twisty corners sends her into a spiral of grief and anger.Will her friends realize what's wrong before it's too late?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had an excellent prompt suggesting I fuse my X-Men/Criminal Minds world into the Supergirl-verse. (Actually, I have like 6, all different and all awesome). And this prompt was lovely.
> 
> Something like, Emma Frost meets Alex after she was shot down by Maggie. They agree to friends with hot kinky benefits. Also they both kind of love how jealous & worried Maggie & Kara get because Emma /could/ be a dangerous sexual predator taking advantage. (She's not.)
> 
> I ignored that last parenthetical. And most of the rest of the prompt.
> 
> WARNINGS: Do not read if you have any sexual violence triggers. Contains sexualized psychological torture, mentions of murder (casefic style), and probably other things that get me called out as a violent misogynist. (Thanks for defending me last time, but then I go write stuff like this. :( If it helps I am often also called a misandrist as well.)
> 
> Alex/Maggie, Alex/Phantom Maggie, Emma Frost being a less than ethical sex therapist

“Hellfire Club?” Alex flipped to the back of the magazine, finding the discreet and polite ad. _Your hearts desire; experiences Out of this World._ Out of this World was blatant street jargon for aliens. Alien labor, slaving? What was this place?

Might as well find out.

Kara’s eyes were too soft these days, too gentle to deal with. She couldn’t see Maggie, couldn’t even bring herself to answer her texts without wanting to vomit. She’d screwed it up. She had always been shit at having friends, and boom, she’d lit this friendship on fire. J’onn was being polite, but she knew he was checking when she cried in the bathroom in the mornings. It was _stupid_. She’d been stupid to think that because it was different it would be easy, to think that it was possible. _Maggie greeting her with a warm arm thrown around her, laughing at her, but open and warm, keeping her close._ At least she’d tasted her lips, at least she knew what that was like. But, god, it made it easy to wallow in what might have been.

Better to be investigating something, digging into her own case, not waiting for a call from a person she did not want to see.

And the Hellfire Club was interesting. It wasn’t sleazy, like she’d expected. Important people belonged. She traced one of their money routes to whoever had gotten Roulette released. There had been some murders recently of aliens who had been abused sexually, but Alex couldn’t find any connections there. Still, an interesting lead, perhaps. And it wasn’t just for the rich and famous. They had an open side. They sold dreams.

It was a dumb plan, but Alex had always been able to call on Kara for backup if she just shouted. And anyways, she was a regular customer, right? Woman, 29, just figures out she might be a lesbian, sounds like a perfect cover story for heading into a place like this one. She wouldn’t even have to lie.

The smiling host at the door took down her information, nodding seriously. “A consultation,” he suggested, “since you’re unsure of the sort of thing you might desire. We can help with that.”

“Can you?” How? Talking? A checklist? Or was there an alien involved here too?

But when she opened the door it looked like a therapist’s office, warm leather couches and no windows, and books, plenty of books, but like a therapist’s office just the same. The woman at the desk turned in her chair and smiled.

She was blonde, with a long face and cool, ice-blue eyes. Sharp glasses with a white frame sat low on her nose and her hair was up in a slightly loose chingion. Her shirt was white also, and when she rose to greet Alex, she revealed herself to be wearing a white pencil skirt also. It was a lot of white.

There was something about the way she held herself that reminded Alex of Lena Luthor, and for a moment she had a flash of this woman holding a gun, pointing it, pulling the trigger in the same chill and emotionless way that Lena had. But this woman tipped her head invitingly, holding out a hand for Alex to shake. Her hand was warm, not slightly clammy like Lena’s had been, and Alex found the slight lines in her skin, the way her nose looked like it had been broken a long time ago and not set properly, a little more comforting than her sister’s arrogant paramour.

“Alex? Did I hear that correctly? I’m Emma.”

“Um, pleased to meet you.”

She ushered Alex over to one of the couches and looked at her, crisp ice-chip eyes narrowing as they stared into Alex’s face. “Talk to me. What are you looking for?”

Alex threaded her fingers through her hair, feeling awkward. Why did everyone want her to talk about it? But she had a reason this time, not just confession. “Uhh, it’s not a new story really. Girl grows up not being all that into guys, girl meets lesbian, girl kind of figures out that she might be into that. I guess— I haven’t … tried anything. I dunno. I thought you might be able to help.”

“It sounds like it was not as easy a story to live through.”

Alex ducked her eyes. It wasn’t quite sympathy, but it was close enough to be embarrassing.  “You make fantasies real, right? That’s what your ad said.”

“Yes.” Emma reached out, brushing her fingers across her knee. “Do you mind if I touch you?”

Alex stiffened. Okay, she was hot, but she hadn’t thought it was _that_ kind of therapy. “What?!”

“On your face, just for a moment.”

“Uh, okay?” This was not really how she’d thought this would go.

Emma reached out and let two fingers rest on her temple, her thumb brushing over her chin. “You see—” she said, her voice almost distracting Alex from the touch, “—you’re right. This isn’t a ‘normal’ sex club. We can discover your deepest desires. We can let you experience almost anything.”

Alex stiffened and felt the touch in her mind, the one that only J’onn was supposed to be able to do. “Are you a Martian?”

Emma laughed in her face. “No, darling. Just, _enhanced_. Now let me …” She frowned, her brow furrowing, and Alex struggled to remember the other reason why she was here. She wanted to know—this lesbian thing—was it real? Did she really want women sexually? And … aliens could help her find out? Was that it?

“Oh, I’m not sure if you’re in the right place, dear.”

Alex blinked, suddenly feeling a little fuzzy. “What?”

“You don’t like sex.”

“What? How do you— how do you know that?” Alex swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. “Do you mean I don’t like it with anyone? Ever?”

Emma’s fingers move in a soft circle across her temple. “I can’t predict the future. But I don’t think you’d be interested in what we have here. Not … the regular things.”

“Why not?”

“Flesh is flesh. You need it to mean something.”

Alex shut her eyes. What had she been thinking, coming to a sex club? She knew she didn’t like sex, especially with people she didn’t much care for. Just because the body has boobs rather than cock, why would that make a difference? _It had been different because it was Maggie. Ugh, don’t think that, Alex. Stop_ thinking _that. It’s pathetic._

“I could give you what you want—or at least the semblance of it, if you were willing.”

Alex looked at her. “How?”

“I have certain … skills. And I know what it is you want.”

“What? What _do_ I want?”

“You want to know who you are.”

Alex’s hands dropped into her lap. “I …” She pushed her hair back from her face and breathed out slowly. “Yeah. I do.”

“Lets find out together.”

#

“Hey, Alex.”

The room is dark, warm and quiet. It’s like the alien bar, only empty. When Alex looks to the side she can see the bar and tables, but in her peripheral vision it fades away. Maggie’s there, gentle, smirky, but so soft. Everything around her feels soft.

“I—” She doesn’t want to see Maggie, doesn’t want to be with Maggie. It hurt too much. But the softness is like a pressure on her head. She should be able to break out, safeword out, right? What’s the safeword? _Supergirl_.

“You wanna play pool? I won’t let you beat me this time.”

The safeword fades from Alex’s lips. This isn’t real. She doesn’t really trust Emma, but she’s interested. Emma said she’d help her find out who she is. She wants to know. She also wants to know what it is this woman is offering. She can’t be offering _Maggie_ , even a fantasy of her, that would be absurd, right? And totally inappropriate. Where was this going to go?

So Alex takes the other cue and they play. Maggie’s better, making some trick shots, grinning at her. There’s a haze of unreality to this, of fantasy, but it doesn’t hurt as much as fantasy should.

“Alex,” Maggie’s voice is soft. “There are things you don’t know about me. But I think you’re beautiful. I’m not ready to be with you, or you to be with me yet, but I want you to know that.”

Alex breathes in the words, the softness of them. It’s gentle and easy and feels true.

It feels true.

Alex starts to cry. “ _Supergirl_.”

#

“That— that isn’t fair!” Tears fell down Alex’s face. She was crying in real life. God, why was she always crying? Emma was sat on the floor across from her, legs folded, shoes off. She released Alex’s face. “You can’t just— just tell me things I want to hear! Even if they’re lies!”

Emma shifted back, tapping her chin. “Is that all they are?”

Alex shoved herself up from the floor, grabbing her bag, and rushed out. She couldn’t face this. Why was this what she wanted? She shows up at a place that caters to the most decadent of sexual fantasy, she asks a woman to probe her brain to find her deepest darkest desires, and all she finds out she wanted was someone she trusted to tell her she was beautiful.

Goddammit, she was such a loser.

#

Alex let herself go back to the memory at night.

It had been a long day. She’d shown up at a crime scene, another of those weird murders that had been happening lately, some of them with sexual overtones, and sexual overtones plus alien murders, well, that couldn’t be good. Maggie had gotten there first, crouched beside the corpse, blue gloves, fierce expression. Alex nearly vomited.

What had she done? What sort of violation was it to use her image like that? Use the way she’d been so kind, fill her mouth and voice with lies, just to make Alex feel like she was worth something.

Maggie turned, rising up, catching sight of her. She offered a smile—the same kind of smile she’d offered in the fantasy. “Danvers—” She waved.

Alex stuffed the papers into her subordinate’s hand, spun around, and left.

But that night, she sank into the memory, the feeling it had come with, the sense of truth about it. It felt wrong to do it. But remembering feeling that way, confident, full of hope—hope that didn’t turn out to be false, it was like a drug, not just deadening like alcohol, but a euphoria she ached to experience again.

#

The boy at the desk waved her right through when she went back. Alex found Emma at her desk, fiddling with some paperwork. She looked up at the sound of the door, but there was no surprise on her face. Telepaths weren’t easy to sneak up on. “You want more?”

“I want to feel normal again. I want to be able to handle this.” Alex put her face in her hands and dug her nails into her skin. She took a breath. “It’s just rejection, right? I shouldn’t be so—”

“You are what you are. There’s nothing interesting about should or shouldn’t.”

Alex looked up. “I don’t know what it is you want me to see in myself.”

Emma smiled. “Whatever you want to show me.”

#

The bar is a little warmer, a little noisier. She’s pressed up against Maggie in a booth. Maggie is whispering in her ear, her breath and occasionally her lips brushing against it. Alex aches.

She’s telling jokes, teasing Alex, pointing out funny things about the other patrons. Maggie has done this before, Alex half remembers. It feels real because of it, but also fake, because Maggie’s hair is in her face, her touch on her skin, and it’s everything she’s wanted, everything she needs. _Emma thinks she needs this_.

They drink a beer, play pool again. Maggie musses Alex’s hair, and it feels—it feels like electricity. Every nerve on Alex’s body is sensitized. She reaches out, going to cup Maggie’s face, to draw her in for a kiss. And Maggie catches her hand before it can make contact.

“Alex—” Her tone is soft, and Alex feels her eyes begin to sting. It isn’t—this is a fantasy, isn’t it? Why does she have to live through this rejection over and over again? Why can’t she just have what she wants?

“Alex, honey. You’ve got to wait. You’re not ready.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t know me yet.”

Alex stares at her, utterly confused. She knows Maggie, they’ve hung out for weeks, Maggie talks openly about so many things, and she’s kind. She’s so kind, and isn’t that enough?

“You don’t know what I am.”

“I want to find out.”

“Good.” Maggie smirks, and turns away from her. “Keep coming.”

#

It’s a scam. It’s a fucking scam, that’s what it is.

“What is wrong with you?” Alex screamed at Emma. “Why are you torturing me like this? Why can’t I just fuck her and get it out of my system? Why can’t you just make her want me? Why can’t—”

And then she was crying.

Emma drew her near, petting her hair, murmuring soft soothing sounds into her ears. “That’s not what you want,” she said softly. “It’s not what you need.”

“How do you know?” Alex mumbled into the silk of her shirt. “And what does it matter what I need. I’ll never get it. _I’ll never get it._ ”

#

The fantasies didn’t make any sense—that was the weird thing. “You’re beautiful.” “You don’t know what I am.” Were they just random phrases, or did they have meaning? Was there truth to them? Could Emma, maybe, pick up on other people’s psychic frequencies through her memories? Maybe that meant— Jeez, what kind of bullshit was she telling herself?

She asked J’onn anyways, surreptitiously. J’onn raised an eyebrow. “No.” And that was that.

Alex investigated, looking, searching, verifying everything Maggie had ever told her. Double checking, cross checking. She didn’t notice Kara watching her with a strange expression, Winn going up to J’onn with his hands spread wide.

She searched, and found nothing. Maggie was a good cop, had started out in Gotham, got booted for ‘inappropriate conduct’, moved to National City where the note in her file hinted that the inappropriate conduct was lesbianism, but there were hints it hadn’t been. An alien? Probably. What a fetishist.

Was that it? Was Alex not alien enough? Was that what was so wrong with her?

A strange creeping feeling opened up in her stomach, and Alex went back to the Hellfire Club.

#

“You’re right. I don’t know who you are. I want to know.”

Maggie smiles, gentle, eyes warm. “I’m not sure you’re ready.”

“I am.” Alex’s voice breaks.

“How about a test. Come with me.”

She leads her out of the bar into a small, dark room. “Take off your clothing.”

Alex gulps, but she wants this, needs to know. She strips down. Each piece of clothing disappears as she drops it.

And then she’s naked, completely, and Maggie just leans against the wall, her eyes running from Alex’s jaw to her breasts, to her mound, down her legs and back up. She just leans there and watches. She does nothing, shows no reaction, no interest, nothing.

Alex stays there, frozen, desperate, until she wants to scream. “Supergirl,” she hisses, and the dream fades.

#

“What was that? What was that for?”

Emma was just as impassive as the phantom Maggie in her head. “It was something you needed to do.”

“Be humiliated? Again?”

“It’s not as bad, is it? To have someone see your body and not care, rather than see your heart and not care.”

Alex stared at her. She put her hands to her face. “I hate you.”

Emma nodded. She looked away, tapping something on a tablet. She didn’t care.

#

Real Maggie didn’t trigger despair anymore. Instead, Alex burned with anger. But it was easier. It felt better. It felt so much _better_.

She snapped at her, and Maggie looked at her, confused, but not hurt. No, Maggie never showed that she was hurt. Maybe she never was. Maybe that girlfriend had it right. Maybe she didn’t have feelings.

#

Another test, another. Alex hangs suspended from a chain, straps around her wrists, binding them together behind her back, straps across her chest, drawing her shoulders back and up. Naked, she’s always naked now.

Maggie still leans against the wall, watching her here, helpless, exposed, vulnerable. Still expressionless, no longer kind.

She holds a switch, and smacks Alex across the cheek with it. It stings, starts to bleed.

Yeah. That was how it felt. That was how this whole mess felt.

She switches her ass, and Alex hangs there, a new ache building in her core. Maggie doesn’t care, but she’s right there, and Alex _wants_.

Fingers pry her legs apart and two slide into her, straight and careless. Alex gasps and bites down on her lip. The fingers feel around for a moment, as if they’re looking for something. Not finding it they jerk out again.

“This isn’t real for you, is it?” Maggie’s voice is flat. “You’re not really a lesbian. That would be easy. You’re just stunted. You’re too damaged to let anyone love you besides your sister. And you care about her too much. So much more than she cares about you. You’d get on your knees for her if it wouldn’t make her disgusted with you.”

Alex freezes. Not true. That’s not true. She’d never even thought—

Maggie laughs, hard and cold. “Oh no. I’m not saying you want her. That would make you normal. Who doesn’t want to fuck Supergirl? You don’t. But not because she’s your sister, not because it’s wrong to feel that way. You don’t want to fuck her, because wanting anything is too much of a risk. You don’t want anything for yourself. You can’t want anything for yourself. But you would do anything she wanted you to. But you would never, ever, ask her to do anything _you_ wanted.”

Alex broke a little more. “I wanted you.”

Maggie sighs. “You wanted me to want you. That’s different.”

#

Maggie was in the DEO, talking to Winn. But Alex hardly noticed. She wasn’t there. She was in her head, in the dreams, still feeling that heavy, dark presence in her mind, cold and controlling. It was true. Everything it said was true. Nothing out here felt real. The only reality was that dark place, the bonds, the certainty. She had to go back. It wasn’t even will anymore. It was simply need.

Alex shut a drawer on her hand. Both Winn and Maggie looked up. Alex shook it out absently, not noticing the blood that flicked across her papers, not noticing the way Winn and Maggie looked at each other, not noticing anything at all.

Why should she? This world was only shadows.

#

Alex groans as the thick, lumpy rod was forced in and out of her. Only spit for lube, it hurt, hurt but not clean and sweet like pain. It hurt because she was dirty, because this was a sex act she’d allowed.

“You’re a slut,” Maggie murmurs. “No, not even a slut. Sluts want it.  They enjoy it. You just give yourself up to it. You’d burn, you’d break, you’d die if I asked, wouldn’t you? Just to please me.”

“Mhmm.”

“You thought this would make you get over me. But you never wanted to get over me. You wanted to give in to me. Every scrap of pride, every last self-defense mechanism that kept you from begging at my feet in the real world, they’re gone now. You’re broken. You’re mine, and you’re never going to be healed of it.”

Alex starts to cry, the fucking steady, breaking her apart. It’s true, isn’t it? She’s never wanted to get over Maggie. That would be healthy. That would be the right choice. But she isn’t healthy, she isn’t okay. She’s never wanted anyone like this, never needed to have them promise to protect her, to use her in any way they wanted, just so she would make them happy—

But of course she has. She’s always felt this way, about her parents, Kara, J’onn and the DEO. Who was she? No one without someone to give herself to. No one on her own.

“Yeah,” she murmurs.

“What?” The Maggie construct seems startled. The voice is startled. Not the shape though. Alex knows this, even though she isn’t looking.

“I’m no one on my own.”

“Alex?”

A hand grips her arm, the feeling of penetration fades like it has never been there. The straps are still there, and then the voice again, sharper, more worried, but still Maggie.

“ _Fuck_. Fuck, Danvers? Are you okay? Wake up, please wake up! Are you okay?”

The straps holding her up release. Arms are around her, tight and warm and desperate. She can smell Maggie, smell the rich scent of worn leather and cotton, her shampoo, the sharpness of sweat on her skin. She can feel the roughness of kevlar and denim against her naked body.

Nothing soft, nothing faded, nothing comforting. The endorphins flooding through her system draw back, and Alex blinks. Maggie’s head is pressed against her shoulder, she’s holding her so tight Alex thinks she might break.

<< _This isn’t what I meant. I wanted you to love yourself without me first.You weren’t supposed to do this to yourself. Alex. You weren’t supposed to think I didn’t care. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. >>_

The words didn’t really parse, they weren’t sound, they were just raw emotion, but the feeling did, the strength of her grip.

Alex breathes out. Safe. This is the real Maggie, and she’s safe. “No one … my own”

“You don’t have to be on your own. You don’t have to. Not ever. Not unless you choose it.”

“Yeah?” Alex lifts her head, she fumbles for Maggie’s face, fingers on her temple, lifting her chin until their eyes meet. And in them, like scraps of written down telepathy, she can read the words. _God, you’re so beautiful,_ and _, You don’t know what a mess I am. You don’t know what I am at all. I don’t deserve this._

And Alex buried her face in Maggie’s warm neck, arms wrapped tighter than the straps around her shoulders, and clung.

#

Every trace of the Hellfire Club had been gone when the DEO and Detective Sawyer broke in. Only Alex, slowly tortured for weeks, remembered some things. However other things had gone missing too, such as a large amount of money from the National City elite and the memories of corporate business owners.

J’onn paced ferociously through the debrief. “ _Non_ Alien telepaths? Things we do not need. And those murders— what else were they doing besides scamming half the city out of their fortunes?”

“Forgive me if I don’t feel bad for a bunch of sex-mad assholes losing some cash.” Maggie had stayed for the debrief, sitting on the hard chair in the corner, arms crossed, glaring every which way like a guard dog who’d been blindsided once already.

“I was going to write a report right after the first recon.” Alex rubbed at her temples where a headache was gathering. “I forgot.”

“She made you forget.”

“Also,” Maggie said, “the murders have been linked to one of our fine upstanding citizens. Not standing any more since he was found dead. No clear cause of death. And the murders were going on long before the Hellfire Club came to town.”

“So they made it easier for him to hunt?”

Alex shook her head. “They were drawing him out.”

J’onn fixed her with a glare. “How do you know that?”

“I _don’t_ , I just—” But she did know. Alex tugged at the bottom of the too large t-shirt. “I think she left the information for me.” It was hard, coming back to herself after being cut off for so long. But it was also a relief. She didn’t feel bad anymore. She’d been naked and tied up and exposed, but exposed to herself also. She gave everything. That was the kind of person she was. It didn’t always work out, but there was nothing wrong with it.

There was nothing wrong with her.

“It also makes sense,” Alex continued. “He was here, and they showed up later. The bodies we found can be tied to him but not to the club. I’m not saying they’re vigilante justice, or anything, but even when I was all messed up, I kept working the case. I dropped all interest in the Hellfire Club, but not in this case. And if there’s not a mark on him—I’d check his brain.”

J’onn huffed out a breath. “I hate vigilantes.”

Both Alex and Maggie blinked at him.

“Supergirl is _my_ vigilante. Doesn’t count.” He shook his head. “Get out of here. Come back fresh on Monday. We’re going to have a lot of paperwork.”

Maggie offered a hand as Alex stood up. Alex looked at it and then at Maggie. “I’m fine. It was all in my head, and even that doesn’t seem to be too damaged.”

“Yeah, well that wasn’t obvious right off the bat.” Maggie took her arm whether she liked it or not. “So my head’s not feeling great.”

“All right.”

“Huh?” Maggie gave her a suspicious look. Alex smiled.

“I’m probably going to eat and then pass out. But you should come over, as long as you don’t mind me passing out on you during a movie.”

“I— I don’t mind.”

Alex reached up with her free hand and cupped her shoulder, squeezing it. Maggie’s eyes were wide and needy and helpless. It was beautiful. 

“Okay, then. Take me home.”

###


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be a traumatic experience for Alex, but Maggie feels like she's the one who's all mixed up. 
> 
> And it was not the last they saw of Emma Frost -- Telepathic Sex Therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in other : Things No One Was Asking For : I wrote a second chapter to the Emma Frost shows up in Supergirl and wreaks havoc story.
> 
> Thanks Dr Scarified! Headcanon accepted!

Once you'd cut a naked girl down from a sex harness, it was a bit difficult to think of her as a baby deer. Maybe a baby deer who had been mangled by hunters and grown up with some tough scar tissue or something, but the idea of _not_ touching Alex Danvers was suddenly a lot more difficult to contemplate than the idea _of_ touching Alex Danvers.

Naked once, naked again. Right?

Alex passing out on her on the couch the first night had ended with Maggie carrying her to her bed and crashing on the couch--for the next night and the night after that also. Kara and Supergirl were taking turns to hover also, because although Alex _seemed_ okay, how could you just be okay after being telepathically manipulated by a woman in a weird alien sex club?

Late at night, on the couch, Alex leaned against the arm, her eyes closed, a beer clutched in her hand and murmured her thoughts. "I'm not _okay_. I've never been okay, really. I'm just . . . more relaxed about my not-okayness."

"Why?"

"I dunno. I think she made me not worry about it so much."

"She fucked with your head."

"No." Alex grimaced and took another sip of her beer. "Well, yes. She did that. She _really_ did that. But during the therapy, it always felt like I was leading, that I was just letting her draw out what I wanted, or knowledge of how I dealt with wanting at all."

It was hard to swallow. It has hard to think of Alex in that harness, in limbo, exposed. There were no physical signs that she'd been hit or raped, but she had been so vulnerable. And that woman had opened up spaces in her mind that had probably been closed for a reason. But, then again, Alex wanting women was another thing that had been closed off for a long time. And Maggie had taken a hammer to that. Totally without self-interest. _Snort_. Had Alex liked the harness, the loss of control? Maggie couldn't make her mouth form the words to ask.

Alex kissed her awake one morning on the couch and shushed her when she started to sputter.

"We don't have to talk about it."

"We don't?"

Alex shook her head and leaned in for another chaste, closed mouth kiss. It wasn't like Maggie was going to refuse, not now, not anymore.

She'd known it, even if she hadn't _known_ it. Losing Alex just wasn't something she could take. And Maggie couldn't make her choices for her. Whatever Alex asked for--that was what she'd get.

She didn't ask. But in quiet moments, or after lazy, casual lunches, she'd steal a kiss. And Maggie was always willing to kiss back. Instead of Maggie being careful with Alex it felt like Alex was being careful with Maggie. Careful, but confident and composed.

"She gave me a glimpse," Alex said, when Maggie was staring at her after Alex had stopped the soft kisses on the couch before they'd turned into heated making out. "Of how you felt about me."

"What?" Half panicking, Maggie didn't know what to do with that information. "She _what_?"

"It's cheating, I know. And it isn't an answer. I know it's complicated, and nothing is as simple as it feels when you see someone you care about in danger. But it was enough. A reassurance."

It was a weird moment, but right then, Maggie knew, the certainty down to her bones, that she was not going to get over this girl, that no matter how she fought her feelings or tried to keep them under control. Giving in was only a matter of time.

"You don't-- you can't really know me, even with that."

"Have you thought that maybe you don't really know yourself?"

#

The best thing about dating a baby gay was the sex. And the worst thing about dating a baby gay was also the sex. Maggie had done it before--had been that girl before. Totally enthusiastic, because she was 'proving' her identity. And also totally unwilling to admit it when something wasn't working for her. Because if it wasn't working, that meant she wasn't gay enough, right? She was betraying her gayness. And it had been such a hard realization in the first place that she wanted to cling to it with all of herself. Any idea of complexity, or the idea that her identity wasn't actually tied up with specific sex acts, was unthinkable. It had been a shitty place to be. Alex didn't deserve that.

The makeouts escalated. Alex was warm and enthusiastic, and liked cuddling. Maggie had never really been into cuddling, but Alex was smooth and spiky and smelled lovely and would lean in, burying her head against Maggie's shoulder. She was so annoyingly tall, and yet she curled up into the smallest bundle to put herself into Maggie's arms.

Maggie held on tight, and Alex would grumble incomprehensibly into her t-shirt. She liked it. She liked her. It should be easy to just let her hands wander up under her shirt, smear her mouth across her neck, change satisfied and warm into wet and hungry. But in the moment Maggie seemed to have this weird mental block, where all she wanted was to hold on tight, stay still and static and safe. The idea of trying to teach Alex about sex, and worse, to make sure she liked it, was utterly petrifying.

What if Alex didn't? What if she'd been right? She just wasn't wired that way, and she was never going to like sex. Even if she was serious about her feelings, about being in- in _love--_ the word made Maggie cringe, and no one had said it, thank god, though 'I know how you feel about me' was nearly as bad--that didn't mean she'd ever want sex. And how was Maggie supposed to deal with that? She would. She _knew_ she would. Because this thing they had was too important--weirdly perfect and comforting and easy--and she didn't need sex. It wasn't like she was one of those people who was so horny they couldn't control themselves. And she'd been single for long enough before to know how to deal with her own needs.

But a worse thought was what if Alex could like sex, but she just wasn't good enough to give it to her.

#

A woman was settled on the edge of Alex's desk, long-limbed and elegantly dressed entirely in white. Alex was standing in front of her, close enough that she'd be between her legs if they hadn't been crossed to the side.

"It's been good," Alex was saying. "No, we haven't really been doing much-- no. It's been good. Easy."

Sarcasm in her eyebrow.

" _Don't_. I wouldn't even know if I would like that if it were real."

Alex _giggled_. Maggie stood in the doorway, completely frozen. Who was this woman? She knew the people in Alex's life, and she was too old to be a college friend, too clearly rich to be someone she'd run into through work. There was something about the arch of her cheekbones and eyebrows that made Maggie think of that woman--Lena Luthor--who was involved in all the chaos around town.

"Yes, it was good to see you." Alex smiled. The woman touched her face and Alex's eyelashes fluttered, her eyes shut, and the woman kissed her gently. Alex kissed back.

The woman slid off the desk, showing that she was even taller than Alex--though Alex was (considerately) wearing more flats these days, so the height difference might have been made up by the woman's impossible shoes.

She smiled at Maggie as she reached her, a wicked light in her eyes. "You're smaller than I expected."

"What?" There was a weird sensation in her head, like she'd drunk too much and then stood up quickly. "Who are you?"

The woman leaned in, staring into Maggie's eyes, <<Ugh. I was right. You're just as tangled into yourself as she is. If I had time I'd work on you both, but I don't. So here's the précis. Listen up.>> But the next things pounding into Maggie's head weren't words.

 _Alex, pressing herself deeply into her arms, aching._ She could feel her aching in her own gut, the desperation of it, the need to feel safe, the need to be wrapped up, hurt, held just a little harder than she could take. _Alex with an ugly bruise from alien adventures, sidling in and inviting Maggie to grab her there while they were kissing, wanting to_ feel _. Then Eliza--_ Maggie had not been pleased to meet her _\--and her cool and impassive attitude that only sprang into active affection around Kara, or when Alex was too obviously broken. She needed more than that, deserved better than that._

<<Nice isn't good enough. You've been nice. Step up. You get it, don't you?>> And then there was a sense of power, a high--high on her own strength, the adrenaline that came from making the right call in a tense situation, from thinking her way out of a firefight, the high after taking out the Infernian with a piece of rebar after the superfriends hadn't been able to finish her. <<Now think of how it will feel when she comes apart in your hands.>>

_Alex, gasping, needy, bound and naked under her, saying 'please', saying 'Maggie', saying 'yes'._

And the woman pushed past her and walked out the door. Maggie's knees buckled and she barely grabbed the doorframe to hold herself up.

"Oh my god, are you okay?"

Alex stood over her, reaching out to grasp her arms and draw her up. Maggie touched her, and the skin to skin contact seared like fire through her nerves and down, pooling like lava in her gut.

"That was _her_ ," Maggie hissed. "What the _fuck_ was she doing here?"

Alex dropped her hand as soon as she was stable, staring at the now separated palms with a confused furrow cut into her forehead. "Um. She had information. J'onn 'communicated' with her. He says she's . . . okay."

"And you were just chatting? You were--"

Alex kept looking at her hand. "What did she say to you?"

Maggie took a breath. The heat didn't dissipate. Hardass Alex, in her fake-federal-agent blazer, the way she looked confused and frowny, the way she'd _giggled_ around her fucking therapist--the way she clung . . .

Maggie reached out and took the hand that Alex was finding so confusing--the same burn, the same heat surged through her, reinforcing and redoubling the urge to grab her, dig her nails into her shoulders and bite. She brought the hand up to her mouth, pressing Alex's knuckles momentarily against her lips.

Alex went still, the line between her brows turning into a ridge of surprise. Maggie bit lightly at the tip of her thumb. And Alex's mouth went slack. << _There you go_. >> Maggie grinned.

"She told me to stop wasting time fucking around and instead start wasting time _fucking around_." Maggie cocked an eyebrow and Alex laughed, a little breathily, still confused. "She's kind of an asshole."

"Yeah."

"It sucks she's so clearly right." Maggie let her hand drop and she cupped Alex's waist. She slid down her hip and squeezed. "I want you. So much." She took a step, bumping their hips together, and walked her a few steps back until the backs of Alex's thighs hit her desk. Then she hoisted her up, moving between her knees. She cupped Alex's face in both hands. "So I'm going to have you." The kiss that followed started gentle and then went rough, insistent, a clash of teeth and tongue. Alex gasped into it, her legs wrapping around Maggie's waist, tugging her in, rucking up her skit, until she was close enough to feel the heat through her shirt. Maggie let one hand sneak up Alex's shirt and her thumbnail scraped across her nipple through the lace of her bra.

Alex let out a little crack of sound, and Maggie let go, extricating herself from her legs and heading toward the door. She gave a two-fingered wave from the safe distance, letting the sight of Alex, still breathing heavily, skirt wrinkled, lips red and swollen, half-melted against the desk, build the warmth in her chest and the tingles that ran all the way down to her fingertips. "Be ready," she said, and walked out.

After all, they had to work.

Alien invasions waited for no woman.

###


End file.
